A Different Type of Cinderella
by Just-an-Innocent-Bystander
Summary: All Ella ever wanted was to have a normal childhood and follow her dreams to become a professional designer, preferably somewhere in the city. But when her father marries a woman with two daughters, those dreams are destroyed. Her father dies and Ella becomes a slave within her own home, constantly reminded that she is a burden. One day, however, she helps out a prince in need...
1. Chapter 1

"Tighter!" Charlotte screeched in my ear. I pulled the corset strings tighter and she grunted in frustration. Her already labored breath only added to the list of why this corset couldn't be cinched any tighter. I tied off the ends of the garment and stood back up. My back ached from the long day behind me. Tonight though, the stepmother and sisters were going out, this time to a gala. For the first time in weeks I was going to have a night off.

Well, it wasn't exactly a night off, but it was a night without _them_ around. I would still spend the time polishing silver and sewing the latest fashion of dresses for my stepsisters: Charlotte and Victoria. Out of the two of them, Victoria was nicer.

"Ella?" Victoria called me over sweetly. I stepped closer to where she sat at the dressing table in front of the mirror.

"Yes?" I asked.

"How do you think the duke would like my hair? I am sure I will secure him tonight," she began. "But everything needs to be perfect!"

I smiled. Victoria had been trying desperately to make the grand duke of the land fall in love with her for the past few months when she became totally and utterly in love with him. I hoped for her sake that it would all work out. I decided to braid strands of her beautiful chocolate brown hair and fastened it atop her head. A few pearl-headed pins shined iridescently in the candlelight of the room.

Victoria glanced up from her needlework, which lay delicately in her lap, to see her reflection in the mirror. "Oh, Ella," She said. "That looks lovely!"

I nodded simply and glanced at Victoria's sister as she snapped, "Cinderella!" The nasty nickname rolled easily off of her tongue.

I scurried over to her as swiftly as possible and helped her step into her dress. Everything I did for Charlotte I had to do fast because she was quick to hit if she didn't get her way. The fading bruise on my cheek only accented the matter. I tied the laces of the back of the gown that I had slaved days over. It was a horrid chartreuse green color, clashing terribly with Charlotte's pale skin.

I, of course, hadn't chosen the fabric. The Tremaine women always had their fair share of choices. They just tended to pick horrible ones. The family didn't use a village seamstress. Because I was gifted with a needle I could practically create anything. If only it didn't take so much of my time and effort.

After styling Charlotte's hair, I helped Victoria into her sapphire colored dress. It looked very fine on her, making her brown hair look all the nicer. Victoria had let me chose the fabric for this one, along with the design. What I didn't tell her was that it was one of my own originals. I was quite pleased with the outlook.

Meanwhile, Charlotte was trying to decide which jewels she was going to wear. As the eldest, she always had first pick of everything. Victoria was never cross with her, but it did seem to annoy her that Charlotte always wore the jewelry that would look better with her outfit.

"Sister dearest!" Charlotte called in a sickly-sweet voice. "What do you think of this ring with my gown?"

Charlotte held out her gloved arm to her sister, and out of habit I glanced down at the ring finger of her right hand. A lovely white crystal stone glittered there on her finger, but it wasn't that which made the breath expel from my lungs. It was the fact that the crystal had been carved into the shape of a water lily.

A ring of exact looks had always been on my mother's right hand ring finger. It had been her mother's wedding ring, and she had meant to pass it down to me when she had died when I was seven. My grandmother's name was Lily.

"Where did you get that?" I asked, my voice barely coming out as a whisper. Charlotte began to prattle on about its beauty, "Isn't it just marvelous? Mother gave it to me for my presentation at court."

I swallowed. That couldn't be true. "But—" I began to say then shut my mouth. Only one thing could be received from an argument such as this, and that was a firm lashing. If I had disagreed with her, I would have been beaten for sure. The Lady Tremaine would not tolerate something such as this. And she reminded me every day that I owned nothing in this house. Not one thing.

By the time I pulled myself out of my thoughts, my two stepsisters had already stepped into their dancing slippers and exited the room. I glanced at my dingy grey skirt and brown outer corset. There had been a time that I would have thought I would be dressing up as they did for balls and galas, but that time had come to a close. When my father died, I was reminded every day that I was a burden upon my own home had to pay for that burden through work.

I sighed, blew out the candles in the room, and then descended my way downstairs to see the three women off. They were to be driven to the gala by Markus, the valet, who had been taking them places for the past six years. However, he seemed to be late tonight.

At last someone knocked at the door and I rushed to open it. To my surprise, it was a messenger boy, and not Markus who was standing there.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"I think so." He answered. "Is this the home of Lady Tremaine?"

I nodded and he continued, "I am sorry to tell you, ma'am, but Markus won't be coming tonight. He has fallen deathly ill, ma'am."

I gasped quietly and placed a hand over my mouth, "Is he alright?"

"He should be," the boy replied. "I was told to bring this carriage around, ma'am, but I need to get back soon, so I can't drive it for you. I'll be back in the morning to pick it up."

I nodded again, understanding what he was saying. Then the boy ran off down the lane. I turned back inside where my stepmother stood tapping her foot expectantly at me.

"Markus is ill and won't be coming," I relayed the message to her. Lady Tremaine's frown deepened. She thought for a moment then said, "Go change, girl. You will have to escort us. But let me make one thing clear, Cinderella, under no circumstances are you to enter the party."

"I understand." I said, then darted up the stairs, slipping into the servant's stairways and up to my attic bedroom. I stripped my clothes quickly, throwing on a clean (but old) brown skirt, a peach colored peasant blouse and my over corset once more. I scrubbed my face with the water in the cracked porcelain bowl, but left my hair as it was. It had hardly ever been cut since my stepmother had arrived and now reached lower than my hips. Blonde and curly, it was tucked into the folds of a French braid.

Though I didn't have a mirror in my bedroom, I felt confident that I looked alright. I skipped down the steps back to where my stepfamily was waiting and helped them into the carriage before they could begin complaining about how long I took. I hopped onto the outside driver's seat and flicked the reigns. My stepmother considered that a woman sitting in a man's position was humiliating, but I disagreed. I loved my place. I got to see everything from a bird's eye view.

Joining me on the bench was my father's old knight's sword. I didn't leave the manor without it. Before he died, my father was a Lord who served his kingdom loyally. He taught me more than good manners. He taught me how to fight. The village boys used to laugh when I challenged them to duels. They weren't laughing when I beat them, fair and square.

Now I hardly used the sword. But I still carried it with me when I went out. It wasn't safe, my father said, for young women to walk about without protection. He knew he wouldn't be around forever to protect me and I respected him for that.

Tonight, the gala was being held at a high noble's manor. The woman of the house had been friends with the queen, so it was certain that the royal family would make an appearance. That was also the reason why the invitations for this event were so sought after. I personally didn't know why my stepfamily was invited, but I didn't question it. As we pulled into the circular driveway I smiled in awe. It was beautiful, and I missed seeing sights like it.

When my parents were still alive, we went to many parties. I don't remember many in particular, being as young as I was, but what I do remember was a blur of colors and music. Oh, the music! It poured out of the house in a mixture of liveliness and beauty. Whenever I heard music my heart just wanted to leap into the steps of a dance. I was supposed to be a lovely dancer, but when stepmother came, I stopped. There just wasn't a reason anymore. I had only danced to please my parents.

Stopping before the steps up to the entryway, I opened the carriage door to let the women out. After using my hand to step down they completely ignored me. I was used to it though. This was the life I had succumbed to. Misuse, hurt…it was all the same now. The Tremaine women told the valet guards that I was the one to call for when they wanted to leave, pointing in my direction. The valet guards glanced in confusion towards me. I understood. It was unusual for a girl to be an escort. I shrugged and clambered back to the top of the bench. It wasn't my problem that they felt uncomfortable. I pulled around the corner of the house and parked next to the rest of the carriages. Now all I had to do was wait.

That would be completely and utterly boring. I couldn't even catch up on a good book because it was now nighttime. I clattered down from my perch and strapped the sword to my left side with a belt. My left hand held the handle as I decided to take a walk around the gardens, giving myself a private tour. It was beginning to get colder in the seasons, so the outside wasn't a part of the party open to guests. Humming to myself, I looked at the beautiful trellises and perfectly manicured bushes.

There was so much loveliness in the world, and even I sometimes forgot to admire it. But, there were moments, though few, that I could cherish in quiet harmony, as though nothing could change those moments within my memory. I was touring the hedge maze now, and had made it to the center. I sighed and came to rest on a bench overlooking a nice swan fountain. It wasn't running now, in fear that the cold nights could cause the water to freeze.

A twig snapped behind me and I jumped unfetishly to my feet. My right hand moved to my swords handle, ready to lift it out easily into the air. I looked to where the sound was, but there was nothing there. I frowned. I knew I had heard something.

"Is someone there?" I called out hesitantly. There was no response. I drew my sword silently and leveled it in my hand, deciding to creep around the corner to see if there was anything that could have made noise. There was a pin drop in that garden opening. I turned quickly around the corner.

A man clad in all black clothing shrieked as I revealed my position. He leaped backwards away from the sword, naturally. His hands went up in a way of peace, but no sooner had I blinked and he took off running. I grunted, knowing I would chase after him. I sheathed my sword and followed quickly. I knew if something— _anything_ — went wrong tonight, Stepmother would find a way to blame it on me. I had to catch the man before he disturbed anything.

We whirled throughout the hedge maze, the man twisting and turning as he tried to get me lost. It did him no good, however, because I was gaining on him as we exited the maze and stumbled into the rest of the garden. As the chap took the garden steps two at a time, I was slowed down. Then on the final stair, I crashed to the ground, my skirt getting caught with my feet. Damn women's etiquette of long skirts! They just made everything more difficult.

I pulled my body back to my feet and took chase again, just as he entered the manor. I reached the building and faltered. I was not, under any circumstances, supposed to enter the building. But what else was I supposed to do?

I weighed the pros and the cons. Fine. I would go in.

I stepped inside, and was met with a kitchen in a state of distress. There were pans and food littering the floor. Maids and workers fluttered about in torment.

"What are we supposed to do?!" A tired woman shrieked. There was flour on her face and in her hair. I noticed the large smashed cake on the floor and felt horrible. One man had run through here and had caused _this_ much destruction?

People were starting to take notice of me and my rather sharp weapon.

"Where did he go?!" I asked nervously at the person nearest me. She only pointed and I ran in that direction, leaving her with a dazed look on her face. As I went through the corridors I followed the track of flour and other baking necessities on the marble floors. When I emerged from the hallways I just followed the sounds of clangs of swords and the screeching of hopeless women.

Then I found myself within the doorways of the manor's elegant ballroom. I analyzed the scene. There were eight men in total around the room. Three were pointing weapons at the crowd, two were on the other side of the room bagging countless, priceless artifacts, another two restraining a man whose face I couldn't see, and one man stood in the center of it all, basking in the glory of his evil plans. Well, he was about to have a problem.

The element of surprise was my friend. I drew my sword silently again and charged the man in the middle. Along with the artifacts, the look on his face was priceless. As was mine when he countered my strike just in time. What now? I parried as the man lashed out. Suddenly I remember a move my father had taught me. It was really, really difficult to carry out, but I might as well give it a try, right?

I faked left then threw my sword up into the air. Just as I heard incredulous murmurs and whimpers from the crowd I dove through my opponent's legs, kicking them out from under him, and shoving myself to my feet just as the sword landed back into my hand. I pointed it at him proudly and wanted to squeak at my success. I had been practicing that move for so long!

The man graveled under the point of my weapon. I kicked his sword away, in the direction of the restrained man I had seen earlier. In the few seconds that I had defeated the leader one of the other men had released one of the man's arms and had advanced towards me. I backhanded the leader's head so he was now unconscious.

Then another man's hands closed around my throat. I choked, trying to squeeze enough air into my lungs to stay awake. I was losing consciousness when I found enough strength to pull out the dagger that had been strapped to my tormentor's hip. I shoved it into his thigh roughly. He screamed in reply, dropping his meaty hands from my neck. I coughed, making a noise that complied with the fact I had almost been strangled to death. Precious oxygen filled my lungs once more, and I coarsely got my breath back.

The ballroom had taken on an even crazier, chaotic state than it had before. People were fleeing towards the doorways and I didn't blame them. I would rather be anywhere but here too. Perhaps a different country, even. I picked up my sword from where I had dropped it and struck the man with a knife in his leg. It was a simple round house kick, knocking him to the floor so he couldn't get up.

I turned my attention to the rest of them. They had circled the former restrained man and were closing in on him. I sighed. So predictable. Honestly, could the get a bit more creative. I decided to help, ramming into one of the men who turned out to be fighting with a dagger. He slashed at my face, and soon I felt my face grow warmer, my hot, sticky blood gushing from the wound. I groaned at the inconvenience. It stung like hell, but I just stabbed him in the shin to take him down.

The grimace on my face worsened as I knocked yet another guy out. I coughed and spit. It came out bloody. Great. I glanced around me. Only one other man had been dispatched. I ignored my pain and dove through the legs of another man. I rolled to my feet, my position perfectly in tune with the man fighting the other bad guys. We were both fighting two at once. In between blows he yelled to me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Nice to meet you too!" I shouted back, ducking a strike. Out of nowhere I felt something slash my leg and I collapsed to one knee. I slashed one man squarely in the place where light does not shine. To say he went down screaming would be an understatement. Oops. Looks like he won't be having kids. The man scrambled away from me, then tripped, in a very undignified manner, if I do say.

Then I was kicked in the head.

The blow sent me completely to floor and I coughed up more blood. The sight of it made me woozy. I had lost way too much, leaving me disoriented and seeing double. I tried to get back to my feet, but couldn't. A fatal blow was going to be administered any second now. Before I could stay awake to witness my own execution my eyes rolled backwards. Like a candle being blown out, I fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

When I came to I was in the most comfortable bed I had ever felt. I moaned into the soft sheets, digging my face deeper into the fluffy pillows. This was nice. I hadn't slept in since—Wait a minute. I shouldn't be asleep right now! I had to get up and do my chores.

My eyes snapped open and I pushed myself up so I was sitting. Whoa. This wasn't my bedroom. Where was I?! So, I did what any other girl would do when they waked up in a place they didn't recognize. I panicked.

Pushing the sheets off I saw I was dressed in a silk nightgown, decorated with ugly lace trim. It was like a frilly decorated monster. But why was I wearing it? Where were my clothes? _How the hell did I get into this nightgown nightmare?!_

I launched myself from the bed and to the window. I clutched the frame of it and the breath ran out from my body. I saw a shining city, one that I had seen when I was younger. My mind recoiled at the last time I had visited the palace. It was when my father had married _her_. My stepmother. They had gone to receive the king's blessing. All former and present knights were required to by law. That day was a terrible memory for me.

Right before the wedding ceremony my stepmother had pushed me out of a window, leaving me dangling vicariously on the ledge. Then she went and got married to my father. A boy had come and saved me, only a few years older than myself. I was crying out desperately so that I wouldn't fall the seven stories to the ground. But he saved me. My fear of heights hadn't gotten any better with time though.

But what was I doing at the palace? That didn't make sense. I should have been in some servant's quarters at the mansion I had passed out in. Not at a castle! Unless—no, not possible. I would only be here if the man I had helped was in relation to the King. I stumbled back from the window until I was sitting right before a fireplace. I needed to get out of here. But if I really was here upon the royal family's command, it would be treason if I ran away. No, I would have to stay.

Deciding to get busy before I was interrupted I looked around the room for any source of my clothes. Nothing. Then someone knocked on the door. I pursed my lips and went over to the door, then opened it slightly to see who it was. The maid coughed when she noticed me, and I opened the door wider to accommodate her. She swept past me, her curly black hair tied back with a strip of cloth.

"Hello, Madame," she said. "My name is Ariana, and I will be your maidservant for the duration of your stay here."

I stared at her in confusion. No one had ever called me Madame before. So, I said, "It is nice to meet you, Ariana, but I'm afraid you must be mistaken. I think you have the wrong room."

"Not possible, Madame." Ariana replied. "You are the first woman to stay in the palace since the queen died."

"What? That was about eleven years ago!" I remembered when the queen died because it was a little while after my father had married again. I was seven at that time, and now I was eighteen.

"Madame—" Ariana started to say.

"Ariana, you don't have to call me Madame. I am at the same station as you are!" I told her as she made the bed. I went to the other side to help at her. It was Ariana's turn to watch me in confusion. She said, "You mean to say that you are a maid?!"

"Of course! What did you think I was?!" I wondered out loud as I fluffed the pillows and arranged them.

"No one knows anything about you!" Ariana clarified. "All we know is that you're good with a sword!"

"Well, that part is true, I was taught at an early age." I glanced about the room. "Where is my sword, if I may ask? I would like it back."

"Not possible, I'm afraid. His royal highness, the prince, has taken it into account." She said. "Now who—"

"Taken it into account?! What is that supposed to mean? I will get it back, won't I?!" By now I was getting frustrated. Then someone coughed behind me. I whirled around to see who it was. It was the prince. Henri Ansley. Otherwise known as the man I had helped last night. I blushed crimson. This wasn't decent, him seeing me in nightclothes. Had he no shame?

"Don't you knock?!" Came out of my mouth before I could stop it. His eyebrows shot straight up and I realized who I was talking to. But I was already too annoyed. I curtsied and didn't wait for him to tell me to rise, I just continued on, "Forgive me, your Highness, but this is ridiculous! What am I doing here?!"

The prince crossed his arms and gave me a slow once over, and a smirk came over his face. Somehow, I blushed even redder. This stupid nightdress was not appropriate for me to be seen in. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him, my chin jutting up higher than normal.

"Fine, don't tell me! Just give me back my clothes and sword so that I may leave." I ordered, unknowingly. The prince laughed and I frowned at him.

"What the hell are you going to do with a sword?" He smiled. I scoffed, "Besides save your life?"

The smirk fell from his face. I continued, brushing past him to the wardrobe, "I'm going to shove it up your arse." I flung the wardrobe doors open, not even pausing to see the prince's expression. When I turned back around both Ariana and the prince were staring at me gob smacked.

"What?" I asked.

"Do you realize to whom you are talking to?" Ariana whisper shouted.

"Yeaas." I copied her tone of voice, "And frankly I would like it if _he_ went away." I had found a normalish type maid's skirt, blouse, and crisp white apron. This would be the cleanest thing I had worn in years. I moved to go behind the changing screen, but was interrupted.

"What are you doing?" his royal annoyingness asked.

"Well," I answered. "You won't provide me with my own clothes. So, I am merely borrowing these until I can get my own back. I promise I will return them." I raised my eyebrows as if to ask him to contradict me. It didn't happen. I went behind the changing screen and stripped quickly. I needed to get out of here as swiftly as possible. Then I glanced at my body. It had been scrubbed clean, but giant bluish bruises covered my body. It was grotesque looking, really.

"Damn." I muttered. I ran a hand over my leg where someone had sewn up the gash that a sword had made. The person must have been very talented with healing. I remembered the cut on my face and ran a hand over that too. It stung, but had already scabbed over.

"What was that?" The prince inquired.

"Oh, nothing!" I called. It was indecent to curse as I did, but sometimes I couldn't help it. I pulled on the rest of my new clothes. Emerging from behind the screen, I started to braid my long hair back.

"Are you sure it was nothing?" He prompted. "I could have sworn you said—"

"Yes?" I asked. I brushed past him once more and continued barefoot out the door and into the hallway. He, to my surprise, followed me dutifully. Why couldn't I just ditch him, find my father's sword, and book it out of here? Couldn't a guy take a hint? I didn't need any more complications in my life right now!

I stopped suddenly, about to give him a piece of my mind, when he ran directly into my back. I shivered then blushed violently. This needed to stop now. Right now. I turned around and came into direct contact with his, well, _very toned_ chest. Why hadn't he moved?! I took a large step back and brought my eyes to his face.

"Your Highness—" I started.

"Henri." He interrupted.

"Pardon?"

"I said, 'Henri'. You don't need to call me 'highness', or anything like that." Henri stated. I frowned. Calling him by his given name wasn't proper protocol. I went on anyway, "Your highness, would you—"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Henri shook his head, interrupting me again. I groaned, "Stop interrupting—"

"I told you to call me Henri, and you didn't. Now you have to." Henri grinned. "Say it!"

"Say what?" I rolled my eyes.

"You know what!"

"Oh, I can think of a lot of things!" I retorted sarcastically. A wild glint came into his eyes, "Oh, really?"

I threw my arms up in the air in frustration. "Ughh!" I whirled around and continued down the hall in disgust. Not only annoying but a pervert too!

Henri trotted easily to catch up with me, his pace automatically slowed to accommodate our height difference. I turned down a hallway, trying to navigate my way downstairs and to the nearest exit. I would leave down the front steps if necessary.

"What's your name?" Henri asked me as we walked.

"Excuse me?" I asked him.

"It is customary that a lady will give her name when asked after I have so graciously given you mine."

"Is it customary for a prince to be talking to someone who is clearly wearing the station of a _maid_? Currently I am at the bottom of the food chain, so technically, we shouldn't be conversing _at all_." I fired back at him.

"Is this how you talk to all of your suitors?" Henri huffed. I paused. What was he saying?

"I don't have suitors. Don't be silly." I reminded him. Didn't he understand that I was literally an indentured servant?

"No suitors? At your age? Where have your parents been hiding you away for all these years?" Henri questioned. My face fell and I didn't answer. Henri realized something was wrong. "I'm sorry, was it something I said?"

I took a right turn and at the end of the hall was a grand staircase. This was a step in the right direction. I decided then and there to tell Henri about my parents, it's not like we were ever going to see each other again after this. "My parents are both dead. But before you say anything, I don't need your apologies. The have been enough over the years."

Henri nodded in understanding. "Surely, though, you must have been presented at court sometime?"

"Why do you think I would have been presented at court?" I wondered to him. Each staircase led to another, so it was just a long set of descending steps for now.

"Oh, please." Henri began. "For one, your posture is impeccable, two, your English is too good to have been anything less than a Baron's daughter, and three, you have the confidence of a woman who has seen court life."

I pondered his deductions for a moment then replied, "You are correct in all accounts, but that doesn't mean I was presented at court."

My words seemed to upset him. "It is required by law that anyone of royal blood must be presented by the time they have turned sixteen, and you are probably around eighteen, so please explain to me how, in fact, that you have never been to court before."

"Henri," I said, pausing at the bottom of a staircase that had ended on ground level, "I fear that if I tell you, you will become even more upset with me." I left him standing there as I wandered through the hallway. Now all I needed was to find a door—oh! And my sword.

"Wait!" Henri called. I stopped and did as I was asked, knowing I would probably regret it later.

"Yes?" I asked when he finally caught up with me. We weren't moving now, just standing there awkwardly.

"Why do you want to leave so badly?" He suddenly asked.

"I need to get back to my post." I replied simply.

" _Post_?" Henri said, incredulous. My eyes widened at my words. Now he was curious! If my stepmother ever found out about this conversation I would be whipped until I died on the spot. I had to get out of here.

I bit my lip unconsciously, "I've said too much already. Can you tell me where my sword is?"

He pondered this for a moment before a wicked gleam came into his eyes. Any emotion that crossed his face was nice to look at, because he was nice to look at—what? What was I thinking?! Back on track. The look on his face made me nervous. He was plotting something, I just knew it.

"How about I make you a deal?" Henri smiled. "I will give you your sword back and a horse for your travels if you agree with two of my conditions."

I watched him in distrust, crossing my arms over my chest again. "It really depends on the conditions, now doesn't it?"

He nodded with a knowing smile.

"Well?" I asked. "What are they?"

"You must agree to have lunch with me today and join the royal ball tomorrow night. I will be your escort, of course." He was full out smiling now, very pleased with himself.

I sighed. "Why must you make things so impossible? I need to get home as fast as I am able!"

"Currently, this is your fastest option, that is, if you still want your sword." Henri bargained.

I scoffed, "Leaving my sword is not an option!"

"So it's settled then?"

I pursed my lips. This was going to be the longest few days of my life. I nodded. Henri outstretched his hand to shake and I grasped it firmly whilst glaring up at him. Honestly, it wasn't fair that he was so much taller than me. At my height, I was already taller than a lot of women, but he obviously took the cake when it came to altitude.

"Before we go to lunch you are going to need to change." Henri told me. I glanced down at my already clean outfit.

"Why?"

"Because you are going to be dining with a prince." He answered, as if that changed everything.

"But I'm already changed and clean!" I complained. He rolled his eyes the said, "I'll send a _real_ maid to come and assist you, so don't move."

"I _am_ a real maid!" I insisted.

"We'll see about that." Henri turned and strolled down the hall. What have I done? I was going to be staying here for the next three days. And why was it just so gosh darn easy to talk to _him_?


	3. Chapter 3

A few minutes later I was approached by Ariana. She looked worried. "Are you asking for a death sentence?!" Her tone was as worried as her facial expression.

"Ariana, all is well." I tried to reassure her. "I don't think he ever planned on executing me anyway."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ariana crossed her arms.

I answered her, "He wouldn't let me leave with my sword unless I agreed to share a meal and accompany him to a ball!"

Her eyes widened. "You said yes?!"

"What else could I say?! I need to get back to my stepmother and finish my work before the ball—wait—they're coming to the ball! Oh, what have I done?!" I ended up murmuring.

"Your stepmother is now the least of your problems!" Ariana said, pulling me by the arm down the hall. "You agreed to allow the prince of our nation to escort you to the ball of the decade—"

"But why is that such a major problem?" I asked. She opened a door and nodded for me to follow her.

"This ball marks the prince's twenty-first birthday! At this ceremony, he will choose his bride!" Ariana exclaimed frantically. "And by agreeing to accompany him you might have already accepted his hand in marriage!"

That's ridiculous!" I scoffed, biting my lip. "The King would never allow Henri to marry someone like me—a servant. It's not possible."

"It's not his choice." Ariana answered. "The prince gets to choose someone of his own picking on the night of his twenty-first birthday, or his father will choose for him the day after."

"That doesn't mean he'll pick me, does it?"

"Madame—"

"Ella. My name is Ella." I interrupted. I realized I was just as bad as Henri. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Ella," The name foreign on her lips, "I fear he already has picked you."

I paused, thinking, "What does that mean for me?"

"It means you probably won't be leaving this castle for a very long time." Ariana said quietly.

"Oh, God," I murmured, starting to pace the floor of the carpeted room. It was a full-fledged seamstress's escape. How I wished I could work in a space like this. But back to more pressing matters. "My stepmother is going to kill me."

"Why would she do that? Wouldn't she be overjoyed that her kin is to be the next queen of this country? Most women would be ecstatic." Ariana had a point, but she didn't get it.

"Don't you understand?!" I cried. "I am not a woman of the upper class! I work as a maid for the people of court. I am not a part of it!"

"Then your stepmother should have no problem with you rising through the ranks, now should she?" Ariana fretted.

"You don't get it!" I shrieked. "My stepmother is the woman I am working for!"

I had shocked Ariana into silence. I decided I might as well tell her the rest of it. So I said quietly, sinking into a chair, "If she found out that _I_ had caught the eye of the prince, instead of one of her daughters, she would have my head."

Ariana didn't speak for a moment. "Why?" She asked.

I replied, "Because she hates me…I don't know what I did to cause it, what crime I had committed against her. But now I am a servant in my own home. It is all I know."

I bent over, my elbows landing on my knees and my face in my hands. Ariana had taken a seat next to me. She swallowed then said, "Why are you so afraid of her? You face armed men head on, and do not flinch. Yet, you are terrified of this woman. Why?"

I brought my head up and met her eyes, "Because she took the only happiness I had left, and crushed it under her polished slipper."

What was I going to do? There was hardly a chance to escape from this place, and even then, I didn't know where my sword was. I couldn't leave the last remnant of my father that I had left! What was I to do? I needed to think! My mind just wasn't working.

"Ariana, I need advice, what should I do?" I asked, praying to God that she would have some inkling of a way to help me.

"You're just going to have to get ready and have lunch with him." Ariana said resolutely. I didn't say anything as she made me strip behind a screen and slip into the nicest undergarments I had ever worn. Then the nightmare came. Ariana made me put on an already tight under corset. Then I had to hold onto a bar nailed into the wall while she laced me up.

"Suck your stomach in!" Ariana ordered.

"Why, for God's sake, is this necessary?" I sighed, out of breath from trying to follow out her commands.

"To make your waist look smaller!" Ariana grunted and cinched me tighter. I cried out.

"Why would I care that my waist looks smaller?" I muttered.

"You've never worn one of these before, have you?" Ariana asked, finally tying the laces together.

"Definitely not. This isn't practical for work. I can hardly breath. No wonder ladies faint when excited." I exhaled, glad that she was done. I was next put into a pale blue tea dress. It clung to my arms and waist, nothing like my old clothes. My hair was styled with braid and curls up done with pins. Just as Ariana was about to apply the regular creams and rouge to my face I stopped her.

"Oh, no." I said. "This is where I draw the line. I will not be caked in make-up."

"Thank God." Ariana put the make-up away. "The cosmetics that ladies wear these days cannot be healthy."

"I agree." I said quietly.

"Well, all you need now is shoes." Ariana smiled. "Come with me!"

Ariana opened a door that lead to a closet filled to the brim with shoes. I turned in a small circle and laughed. I had never seen such an excess of useless things. There was no way someone could ever wear all of these shoes! Whoever made them, however, had put in a lot of work. I peered around at each of the pairs. Some had hand sewn sequins on them and amazing beadwork.

"This is amazing." I said.

"I had the dress sent out from one of the seamstresses in town." Ariana replied. "We don't have a live-in seamstress for dresses and such, there wasn't a need when the Queen died. However, we do have a cobbler. He is required to make the King and Prince's shoes, but women's fashion is his hobby. I asked and he said that you can pick whichever you like."

"How could I ever choose?" I wondered.

"I'll ask him if he could get your measurements after lunch so he can make special slippers for the ball tomorrow." Ariana declared.

"Oh—he doesn't need to do that! I'm sure we could find something in here that will work." I tried to convince her.

"He won't listen once he knows that you are going to the ball." Ariana responded. "Now go on! Choose."

I sighed, my breath already short from the corset. Then my eyes landed on a pair of white slippers. They were soft on the inside when I touched them. The jewel on top of it glittered beautifully. These ones. These were the shoes I was going to wear.

White shoes. I had never even considered the idea of that before. In my line of work white shoes would never be worn because, well, they would be trashed after an hour's work around the manor. But now, now I could wear them freely. It was only lunch after all, right? What harm could that do?

If I was to be spending time at the castle, I might as well enjoy it. If the prince did indeed want to marry me, I would just have to, umm, reject him kindly. And then what? I would run, far, far away. Go back to the manor at first, probably, then travel my way to another city and perhaps work in a fashion house. Yes. That was a good plan.

I put on the slippers and stepped back so Ariana could look at all of me.

"How do I look?" I asked.

"Lovely." She decided. "Yes, quite lovely indeed. I say, the prince might ask for your hand as soon as he sees you!"

I blushed. "Don't say such a thing!"

"Look," Ariana said. "I know you don't want to stay here, but just consider it. Honestly, could it really be that bad? Living in the palace after a life servitude?"

I considered it. Sure, it could definitely be worse. "I understand, Ariana, but once my stepmother finds out she would ruin it. She practically owns me! My life is not my own."

"Yes, it is!" Ariana protested. "It is your decision though, so what do you really want?"

I answered, "I want to get away from it all. I want to move away and design clothes." I became lost in my own world. "God blessed me with the gift of being able to sew and create. That's what I really want to do. Not become a part court, with their frivolous ideas about class."

Ariana nodded, looking outside the window. "Just consider it, okay?"

"Okay."

"Well, you're ready." Ariana nodded towards the door. "I don't know where you will be eating, so I'll take you to the main hall."

I took a deep breath before we came out of the room. "Alright."

Ariana and I were strangely quiet during the walk. I could tell she didn't approve of me wanting to run away from a life of assured luxury. I could understand that. But I also didn't want a life in constant view and criticism.

Ariana left me standing in an extravagant hall full of monarchy portraits. I admired them quietly, listening sharply for any noise, so I would know when someone had come into the room. I shivered, the cold marble seemed too decadent to even walk on. It made me uncomfortable, really. I wasn't used to being exposed to this kid of wealth. I slept on the floor next to a fire and woke up with ash on my face, for goodness sake!

My nerves were so on edge that when someone entered the hall I whirled my head around to see who it was. Henri. He hadn't changed like I had. For some reason, he didn't reply right away when I greeted him.

"Hello." I said. No response. I cleared my throat and spoke louder, "Hello?"

That jarred him out of his reverie. He blushed at not paying attention and crossed the hall in a few steps before he was standing directly in front of me. Henri glanced up at the painting I had been looking at.

"What do you think of it?" He asked. It was of him, of course. It had caught my attention quickly because it was one of the biggest in the room.

"Oh, well, I wouldn't know." I replied courteously. "I'm not much of an expert in paintings."

"I hate myself in portraits." Henri commented, frowning.

"No one's ever painted my portrait, so I wouldn't know." I told him, still looking at the painting.

"They should." Henri watched me and I met his eyes. We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. His hair was a slightly darker shade of blond than mine. I studied his green eyes, but ended up blushing and glancing down at my feet.

"Well, shall we?" He asked, holding out his arm to me. Hesitantly I placed my hand in the crook of his arm. It seemed to fit perfectly there, and warmth blossomed in my chest. I glanced up and studied him, wondering if he was feeling the same as I was. I swallowed nervously and we began to walk.

Henri led me into a parlor with a nice table set up next to a window. He pulled out my chair for me and I sat down. This was so strange, being treated so nicely. Such manners hadn't been wasted on me in my younger years, so my stepmother said.

I stared out the grand window. I hadn't put much thought into my stepmother. Why had she been so cruel to me throughout the years? I would probably never find out. Henri cleared his throat, drawing me from my thoughts.

"I'm sorry! Did you say something?" I asked.

"Yes, I asked if you liked the view." Henri smiled and I blushed again. Why did he make me blush, for heaven's sake?! Was this normal for other girls? I hadn't had much contact with men other than my father and Markus. I looked out the window once more, this time really looking at the scenery.

It was beautiful, overlooking one of the many gardens. I recognized it though, only too well. Outside the glass, I saw the window I had been pushed out of. My hands trembled slightly as I folded them in my lap.

"Yes, it's quite breathtaking." I got out. And it was.

"You don't sound like it's breathtaking to you." Henri noticed. I was quick to reassure him.

"Oh, it really is quite lovely!" I said. "But unfortunately, it is marred by a bad memory, I'm afraid."

"Why is that?" Henri asked curiously. He rang a bell carelessly, still focused completely on me, and a maid scurried in. Just a few days ago, I was doing that job. He nodded to her and she rushed off, presumably to get food.

"Well," I started, not minding telling him. "When I was seven years old I was pushed out one of those windows." I nodded in the direction and Henri looked at it then back to me quickly. He was definitely intrigued now. I suddenly realized what this conversation could lead to: him interrogating me more in a way that I couldn't help but answer.

"However did you manage to survive?" He asked.

"With help." I answered. "I wasn't strong enough then to pull myself up. But—"

I faltered, remembering the boy. He looked so concentrated on saving me. When he had pulled me over the edge he said that he was my hero and one day we could get married. I had happily agreed, it was only fair, my little mind thought. I continued, "But a boy came, having heard my cries for help, and he pulled me up."

I smiled at the memory. I wondered where the boy was now, and if he remembered his marriage proposal. It seemed so silly now, yet those few moments were good.

"I know that story sounds absurd—" I said.

"Not really." Henri mumbled, suddenly lost in thought. Before I could ask what was bothering him there came a knock at the door. Henri called, "Enter."

The maid earlier came in, holding a tray of steaming food perfectly level. After placing our meal on the table, she asked, "Will that be all, Your Highness?"

"No, this should suffice. Thank you very much." Henri excused her. We began to eat, then all of a sudden Henri said, "You look beautiful, by the way. I'm sorry I didn't mention it sooner."

I shivered and blushed at his words. Now why did he have to go and say that? Now I was actually starting to like him! This was not going to make things easier when I needed to leave tomorrow.

But he was just so kind and caring and—oh goodness! I was really attracted to him wasn't I? I tried to convince myself otherwise. I mean, he was one of the few men I had met. Perhaps this was how boys my age acted around everyone? Perhaps not.

"Thank you." I managed to say.

"Do you realize that you blush a lot?" He asked with a smile on his face. My face only went more crimson at his words. I tried to make up an excuse, but ended up saying something totally different than I had meant to say. Unfortunately, it was the truth.

"No one's ever called me pretty before I met you." I said. "No one's been as kind to me as you have, really."

The man sitting before me looked affronted. Was that not what I was supposed to say?

"What?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, have I said something wrong?" I asked back. "If I have I—"

"No!" Henri interrupted and I fell quiet. "Do you mean to tell me that no one has ever told you that you are beautiful?!"

He was strangely offended by what I had said. I didn't meet his eyes until he said, "Hey—"

"No." I replied. "No one has." I sighed, almost laughing. "I can't believe I just told you that. Actually, I can't believe I've told you so much already."

Henri smiled. "And yet you won't tell me your name?"

My eyebrows shot up, remembering that I hadn't, indeed, told him.

"It's Ella." I told him. "Sorry for not mentioning it earlier."

"You should stop apologizing." Henri responded. "Ella."

I liked the way my name rolled off of his tongue. I said, "Henri."

Unexpectedly, Henri's face lit up. "You said my name!"

He clearly remembered me refusing to address him by his given name. I laughed, "I know! I did it earlier, too!"

"You did?" He asked. "How did I miss it?!"

"You were a bit preoccupied trying to discover all of my secrets." I jested.

"I was, wasn't I? I hope you'll forgive me for that. I—" He was cut off by the doors to the room being slammed open. I gasped as the tall man approached the table, glaring down at me as if I was a disgrace. I probably was. His appearance was top notch—you could definitely say that. Then I realized why. This was the King!

I stood up quickly and curtsied as best I could, keeping my head down. The breath had run from my body. What was to happen to me? I had just been eating a meal casually with his son— _unsupervised—_ for that matter.

"Get up, silly girl." The King ordered. I didn't dare meet his eyes as I rose to my feet. That was a mistake, evidently. "Look at me." He ordered.

I did. My blue eyes met his steely, cold grey eyes. A flash of anger surprisingly ran through me. I didn't like always being treated as inferior. But I was at the bottom of the "food chain" so to say and had been born a woman. Therefore, I was treated as inferior from birth, at least by most men.

I pursed my lips and didn't say anything.

"Are you the girl who wielded the sword?" The King asked.

My mind flashed back to that night, and subconsciously I brushed my hand over my leg where I had been injured. I nodded, saying, "Yes, sire."

"Where did you learn to fight?" He questioned, intrigued.

"My father taught me, Your Majesty." I answered.

"And where did your father learn?" the King inquired. I took a deep breath. This was not going to end well, I could already tell.

"The Academy." I said. The Academy was where all the knights were taught to fight.

"Really?" He replied, his tone challenging what I had to say. I didn't back down though. The King went on. "What was his name?"

I licked my lips, knowing that I had a choice to make. I could either tell him who my father was, and receive the rage from my stepmother later. Or I could refuse and bear the rage of the King. Would he punish me for refusing to answer? He wouldn't hurt me, would he?

I decided to take my chances with the King. I didn't know him or his manners. I did, however, know Stepmother's. She knew exactly how to hurt me. If I kept my secrets to myself here, I was safer, for sure.

"I am sorry, Your Majesty, but I cannot disclose that information." I held my breath as the King clenched his jaw. He wasn't pleased. I held firm, unwavering.

"You cannot? Or you will not?" He asked.

I answered quickly, "Will not."

Henri interrupted the cross-examination, "Ella, tell him. You must."

"No, Your Highness." I went back to calling him properly. "I mustn't—"

"Young lady! I am your king! Answer me!" His voice grew louder and I shivered. "Who is your father?"

"I won't tell you, so yelling at me is futile!" I remained calm as the King, my ruler, became angrier.

"ANSWER ME!" He shouted. "Or I'll—"

"Or you'll what?" I reprimanded him, forgetting suddenly that I was below him. I forgot everything, really. My mind just slipped into a fuming tone. I went on, "There is nothing you can do to me that I haven't already experienced!"

The two men were silent.

"You've been hit before, then?" The King asked. Henri looked horrified. I glanced up at the King, crossed my arms over my chest and stood tall. Then I answered.

"Child's play."

I didn't watch his reaction. I just turned my head and looked out the window.

"Ella?" Henri asked hesitantly. "Who has hurt you? Was it your father?

"Of course not!" I defended, turning to face him. "My father was the best man I have ever known!"

"Then who was it?"

Who was it indeed. I wish I could make them understand that there was no way I would tell them. Henri came around the table then grasped my arms gently, making me look up at him.

"Whoever it is—They can't hurt you here. I won't let them." Henri reassured me. The King scoffed, but I ignored him. Henri ran a hand over the scab on my face. I closed my eyes so he wouldn't know how close I was to crying. My stepmother was able to hurt me for so long. Could Henri truly protect me from her?

"It—It was my stepmother."


	4. Chapter 4

"What did she do to you?" He whispered. I swallowed. I wasn't going to tell him. Not yet. I stepped back from Henri, shivering slightly.

"I don't know what your intentions are, sir," I said to Henri. "But I think that your father would agree with me when I say that it is time for me to go."

Henri frowned at me and the King stepped forward, nodding. But the prince shook his head. He insisted, "No, you promised you would stay for the ball tomorrow."

The King interrupted before I could say anything. It seemed to be a family trait.

"You promised to do what?"

"I did not promise!" I persisted, holding up my hands as the two men advanced towards me. Both seemed upset that I wasn't saying what they wanted me to. And the thing was, I felt terrible that I had told Henri I would go with him, and now I was backing out. It was practically lying!

"I'm sorry." I tried. "But I'm only going to cause trouble by staying."

"What trouble could you be causing?" Henri asked, and unwillingly I glanced at his father. He followed my line of sight. "If my father had a problem, he would tell me. Wouldn't you, father?"

"Son." His majesty began. "When I said that I wanted you to get married, I did not mean someone of inferior birth!"

It was as if I wasn't standing right there. They began to treat me as though I was on the other side of the country.

"Her father was a knight! That means she was born to nobility!" Henri challenged.

"She could be lying, for all we know!" The King clarified. I took a step back, his cruel voice reminding me of my stepmother. In their eyes, I was nothing but the dirt that they walked on, and I would never be more than that.

"She wouldn't lie!" Henri stood up for me.

"You don't know a thing about her!"

"I know plenty!" Henri declared. I rose my eyebrows.

"Really?" His father doubted. "What is her last name? Where was she born? Why for God's sake does she know how to fight with a sword?! Women born to privilege do not obtain these skills!"

Henri turned to me, finally acknowledging my presence, "Tell him, Ella, tell him!"

"What for?" I asked, genuinely wanting the answer.

"Yes, indeed, what for? Son, do enlighten the both of us." The King goaded. Henri turned fully back to his father, "Because I like her, alright?!"

Upon realizing what he had just said, Henri and I both turned bright red. My face heated up quickly, and I put my hands on my cheeks, as if that would stop them. The King swallowed.

"Very well." He said, "If by tomorrow night you have decided to marry her, then so be it. However, I hope you realize that this marriage would be looked back on with scorn. You will be tarnishing our bloodline."

I gasped quietly and his Majesty stormed out. Henri clenched his jaw. Hesitantly, I reached out and touched his arm. He jumped at the sudden contact, looking down at me with his green eyes. There was pain hidden there too, within the green. Obviously, he didn't have a good relationship with his father, and his mother was dead like mine. My heart reached out to him and I slid my hand down his arm and into his, saying, "I'm sorry to have caused this much trouble between you and your father. If—" I paused to take a breath. "If what you said is true, about your liking me, I warn you that I am not worth it."

I stared at the buttons on his shirt, waiting for any kind of response. He said, "How can you say that about yourself?"

"It's been a fact for many years, Henri. I've come to terms with it long ago."

Henri didn't move. He said, "Can you please tell me _something_ about yourself?"

I sighed, "I am clearly not going to get anywhere without telling you, am I?"

"No."

"Very well, then. I will tell you all that you want to know, but you must do something for me in return." My voice didn't shake, but it held a certain tone that told the prince that I was nervous.

"That depends on what you want in return." Henri answered. I almost smiled. He was obviously skilled in this kind of game.

"I need to get far, far away from here. Somewhere where my stepmother won't be able to find me." I told him.

Henri nodded. "I suppose I could arrange something like that. But, consider the alternative—you could—"

"I could what?" I cut him off. I was becoming rather good at this. "Stay here with you?"

We were both blushing very hard now, but the conversation went on.

"Yes!" Henri replied. "She wouldn't be able to do anything to you if you stayed here—"

"As what?!" I asked. "A maid? A kitchen wench? —"

"My wife?" He asked so quickly that I almost missed it. Throughout our rambling back and forth Henri and I had come to stand _very_ close to each other. So close that we were standing chest to chest.

"That's not exactly a proposal, is it?" Not meeting his eyes, I stared at his chest. I shivered when I felt Henri's hand touch my chin, lifting my head so I could look at him properly. I didn't move a muscle as I met his eyes.

"It is a bit forward, isn't it?" Henri breathed. "But you intrigue me—"

"You move very quickly." I whispered. This conversation seemed too intimate for two people who had just met.

"Normally, I don't, I promise." He swallowed. "I don't know what has come over me, of late, but whenever I'm near you I just want to know more. I feel something _in here_."

Henri took my hand and placed it over his heart. It was racing, just like mine. I copied his movements then whispered, "I feel it too."

"Will you think about my offer, then?" He asked and I nodded. A knock at the door caused us to jump away from each other, blushing madly. Henri cleared his voice, "Enter."

A knight stumbled in, bowed, then said, "Your highness, they've escaped!"

Henri's face drained of color. "What?!"

"Who's escaped?" I asked.

The knight went on, "The men captured and imprisoned last night for attacking a gala! They got out of their cells and are on the run right now!"

Henri started toward the man and I followed close behind.

"Where are they going?!" Henri asked him.

"I don't know, sir, but we should hurry!"

"Very well then, lead on!" The knight took off down the hall and Henri went too. After a moment's notice, I said, "Screw it." And followed them. I hiked up the dress to at least my knees and gave chase. I was doing a lot of this lately, it seemed.

I had forgotten, though, that I was wearing a cinched corset under all of the fabric. I had lost sight of the two men, and was gasping for air, seeing as I could hardly breathe.

"Damn this thing." I muttered. Now where did they go? I wondered after I had caught my breath. I saw a stairwell to my right, up ahead, so I took my chances and followed that. It descended in a circular motion until reaching a large room stocked with weapons. Different doors surrounded the room so it could be accessed from anywhere in the castle. Smart.

Upon the table in the center was a weapon I knew dearly. My father's sword. I didn't think twice as I picked it up, grabbing a shield along with it, and exiting the only other open door. It lead to a hallway and then finally, outside. I was at the front of the palace now, its tall façade leaving a shadow on the circular drive before me. Within twenty-four hours I had found myself in the midst of another fight. Groaning at the tight dress, I hefted my shield up on my left arm and lifted my sword. Here we go again.

I assessed the "battleground". To be honest, it was more of a fair fight then last time. There were lots of other guards to help us. I decided that I could be of best help sneaking up on specific "bad guys" and helping my fellow countrymen. Yes, that was the plan.

The first one was easy. As two men were sparring back and forth I came up from behind just in time to see the good knight's eyes widen at me, stopping fighting. The other man turned around and I butted him in the head with my shield. He collapsed to the ground right afterwards, blood gushing from a head wound.

I looked away. I didn't like seeing the pain I had caused someone. Causing it, itself, was enough. I looked back at the knight, who was still watching me in confusion.

"Come on, then!" I jerked my head towards the fray. Together we helped our comrades. Probably saving each other's lives in the process, but I hardly noticed. I focused on the fight in front of me. The man was much bigger than I, but made up for it quickly with his speed. That wasn't a good combination for someone like me. I was smaller, but not necessarily faster. That was made a point when my opponent slashed at me.

I narrowly blocked it with my shield, but the force sent me flying backwards. I landed flat on my back on the cobblestoned path. The breath had been knocked out of me and I didn't want to move. What I really wanted was to go to sleep, but then I would end up dead. I forced myself to roll over onto my side, a good start, but it was too late. I had moved too slowly.

A blow to the head struck me to the ground once more, and the shield slipped off of my left arm. I was exposed to anything now. My sword was kicked out of my hand and it slid far away. I couldn't move though. I started to feel woozy. My head was bleeding again and my vision blurred. Not good.

I felt arms wrap around my back and under my knees.

"No—" I tried to say, but started coughing. I couldn't do anything! Without my sword, I was practically useless. Where were they taking me?! I knew it wasn't a knight or a guard because this man smelled of sewage and stale piss. Exactly what a dungeon would smell like. I tried to struggle. I pushed my hands against the strong man's chest, hoping to God it would make some impact. It didn't.

I was passed up to a man on a horse, seating me in front of him. I hardly got a glimpse of him because a bag was slung over my head. One of my beautiful slippers fell off my right foot and landed on the ground. I didn't notice it was missing until later. I was too focused on the horrid bag over my head. It was hot and I had to hold the scratchy thing away from my nose so I could breathe. Up on the horse, the unknown man's arm snaked around my stomach, pulling my back up against his chest. It felt uncomfortable and wrong, so I tried leaning away from him, nearly losing my balance and falling off of the horse. Did I really want to risk falling and breaking my bones? That would only stop me from enabling my escape in the future.

"Don't even think about it, girlie." The gruff voice of the man behind me said. Subconsciously I leaned away. I was pulled roughly back against his sweaty chest and his hand slipped from around my waist. I gulped as it traveled up and down my side, sending ghostly, terrifying shivers down my spine. What was he going to do to me?

"Don't think that I wouldn't take you in my bed any day of the week, blondie." He said.

I swallowed the bile that had ridden up in my throat. The man pressed his face into the base of my neck and took a long whiff of my hair.

"But my boss told me to keep on the lookout for a nice wifey for him, and someone with fire, like you, suits his personality." The hand stopped, settling on my waist once more. "He doesn't like other people's castaways. So you tell me now, girlie, have you ever laid with a real man before?"

I swallowed but didn't answer. The taste of blood lingered in my mouth like a disgusting reminder that I should have stayed out of the fight in the palace courtyard. It was none of my business!

And yet, it was. I didn't want anything bad to happen to Henri. Now look where I was.

"Answer me!" The man practically screamed as we rode on. I didn't answer him, though. I was too busy trying to stay awake. I was losing blood and I knew I was going to pass out. I was going to wake up somewhere I didn't recognize. And that was almost too much to comprehend. Would Henri come after me? Was he even alive right now? Who was this boss, and what was he going to do to me?

"Are you listening?!" The voice asked.

I slumped forward, my eyes closing. Maybe I would wake up and this would all be over. Yes, that sounded nice. I was too far gone now.


	5. Chapter 5

My head was pounding.

God, it hurt. I slowly opened my eyes, squinting even though I was in a dark room. I didn't like waking up like this. I was making a habit of it, though. The bed I was laying on was comfortable—for what it was, anyway—much better than mine at home. There wasn't any confusion when I woke up this time. I remembered everything that had happened to me. A surprising calm came over me.

I shivered and rolled over in the bed, taking in the room around me. It was styled like a man's chamber, all dark wood and deep colors. I didn't much like it. It reminded me too much of Father's study, waiting in there alone, as the doctor and Father were in mother's room. I was too young to understand what was going on—just that she was sick. Then, Father came into the room, and told me that Mother was gone. Not coming back, either.

I sat up and got up off of the bed. I could see faint edges of light around a window, but when I tried to open the shutters, I found that they had been bolted shut. I sighed. What could I do? Glancing down at myself, I saw that I was still in my clothes from lunch with the prince.

The prince. Henri. Oh Lord.

There were too many jumbled thoughts inside my head. Last time I was awake I had wanted to get away from him, and now—now I wanted to be swept into his arms and be taken away from here. What a thought.

But where was here? Taking a better look around the room I saw that the fireplace wasn't lit. That wasn't normal. It was getting closer to winter, after all. I shivered again. First thing was first: I needed to find warmth. I couldn't very well escape if I froze to death first. It might mean wrapping up in the bed sheets and praying to God, but at least frostbite wouldn't be the ultimate option.

Noticing a large wardrobe, I had crossed the room in a flash. My bare toes curled against the thick carpet rug. No more fancy white shoes for me. Swinging open the doors, I had to take a step back because it had been crammed so tightly full of a woman's clothing. Whoever had lived here was at one time very vain.

Whose room had this been? Who owned this establishment? The man who had taken me mentioned his master, who was in need of a wife. Self-consciously I glanced at my left hand. There was no ring, thank God. I hadn't been married while unconscious. What kind of man would he be? Not a good one, I was afraid. No righteous man would kidnap a girl, especially one of inferior birth.

Then again, they probably didn't think I was of the lower class. I was dressed as a Lord's daughter. Why was my life not getting any easier?!

I saw the edge of a lined riding cloak peeking out of the stuffed wardrobe. I had to use my weight to pull it out, the bugger was jammed in there so well that when it finally slipped out into my hands a few other articles came out as well. I threw the cloak over my shoulders, shuddering slightly that this could be considered stealing. All of the clothes were expensively made, and of the latest fashion. Whoever they belonged to probably wanted them back.

Tucked at the back of a shoe shelf was a good old fashioned pair of laced up riding boots. Those would be the best bet if I had to run. I shoved my feet into them and found out that they were my exact size. How odd. I had always had naturally small feet, so it had hardly ever occurred that someone had the same size.

I was much warmer now. I crept up to the door quietly and tried the handle. Locked. Nothing could ever be done easily for me, could it? I knew the window was locked, so there was no other way out except for—except for the chimney! In nice houses like this one, the fireplaces were always large. I knew because I had cleaned my family's fireplaces for years now.

Hopefully we were on an upper floor, which would mean there was a direct path upwards to the roof. If it wasn't, then there would be a network of dirty tunnels that I would be forced to climb through, without even the illusion of where to go. Who was I kidding? Any route would be dirty. The real question was: was I insane enough to try and climb up a chimney?

Yes.

It was kind of strange knowing that, yes, you knew how to climb a chimney. I tucked the back edge of my dress into the front waistband, creating an odd sort of pantaloons. I stepped into the fireplace, and looked up, seeing a tiny blue square far up above me. I took a deep breath. It would be the last clean air I would breath for a while.

I pressed my back up against the chimney wall, and placed my right foot on the opposing brick wall, about my normal knee height. Next I positioned my left foot flat against the back wall underneath my rear. This had taken much practice over the years. Then began the difficult shimmy up the chimney. In no time I was sweating, even though there was a cold draft drifting down the chimney shaft.

I paused for a moment to catch my breath. My abdomen was going to hurt tomorrow. Who was I kidding? It hurt now. I was still wearing the dreaded corset Ariana had made me wear. I brushed my grimy hand over my face, and almost laughed at the irony of my situation. Here was me, _Cinderella_ , brushing cinders and ash across my face, as I climbed a chimney in a rich man's clothes. I actually longed for the gala night, it felt like ages ago now, but I wished I could be there instead of here.

How though, would things have turned out? Where would Henri be? Where was Henri right now? I wished he would come and save me…but wishing never worked. If one wanted to get somewhere, one must do it oneself. I stopped believing in wishes long ago. I groaned and began to move again.

Just as I had reached the top, I heard a noise from below me. I held my breath, trying not to make any noise that could reveal my position. Someone had entered the room, and they wouldn't like that I was missing—especially because of the locked door. Hopefully they wouldn't expect a "lady of wealth" to know how to climb a chimney. But they had seen me fight, so they also knew that I wasn't a normal girl.

An outraged voice could be heard below.

"Where is she?!" a man asked loudly.

"I—I d-don't know, sir." A trembling woman's voice answered.

"Well she didn't evaporate into thin air now did she?!" He taunted her. I bit my lip. My absence might cause her harm.

"Do I need to remind you what happens when I don't get my way?" His voice was quieter now, more sinister. The girl whimpered. Oh gosh, he was going to hurt her because of me. I looked up. I was at the top—I could practically taste my freedom.

But I couldn't leave her. No, my self-conscience would never forgive me for that. It was as if I was inflicting the pain myself.

"Oh, bugger." I mumbled and began to lower myself down again. About halfway, though, I lost my footing on the bricks and tumbled down the rest of the way, landing with an "Oomph." I could feel their eyes on me as I check myself for damage. I had a scrape on my right arm now, adding to my wide assortment of discoloration on my body.

Suddenly a meaty hand grabbed my arm and ripped my body forward from the fireplace. On the way out my head banged against the mantel. I groaned in reply, my hand flying up to my forehead, saying, _"Thank you, for another lovely bruise."_

The man released me and I stood up straight in the middle of the room. I shivered, it was still freezing. Glancing down at my feet I noticed how much ash and soot I had dragged into the room. That was a mess I certainly didn't want to clean up. The man coughed and I turned my attention to him. Here was my captor. Unfortunately, he wasn't very intimidating. I was tall for girls my age, I knew that, but this man was my height, and compared to other men, he must have felt quite short all of the time.

I glared at his pudgy stature and poor posture. I, myself, was standing perfectly straight. Why on earth would he keep me here? If he was under the impression I would marry him, he as mistaken. The "relationship" we would share would be no picnic. There would be no relationship at all.

Before he could start talking I began, "I do not know what your intentions are, sir, but I assure you—"

"Shut the bloody hell up." The man said, and I scoffed.

"It's going to take more swear words than that to scare me, Mr.—?" I asked. Yes, who was he?

He looked offended. "You do not know who I am?! I am one of the most famous men in this country! There is not a Noble bred child who doesn't know who I am!"

"Well, that explains it then!" I answered. "I am not 'Noble bred' as you say. If you think so then I'm afraid you're mistaken."

"Oh, please. Do not try to fool me. You are dressed as a lady and my men took you directly from the palace. I do not need any more proof than that." Mr. Whatever said.

"My case still rests. I do not know who you are. Even if you don't believe me, I assure you that I am not a lady. Now why did wake up here, in a locked room?"

"Because, you are my prisoner now, and in three days' time, you will become my wife, Mrs. Friedrich Brighton."

I rolled my eyes. "Mr. Brighton, that gives me plenty of time to escape."

"Not possible."

"Just like it's not possible for me to climb a chimney?" I chided. "I will do it again."

I had angered him now. His face turned red and he began yelling at me. I took a step back from him. Spitting fire and showing defiance had worked before, but his mannerisms were too chaotic to manage. He was completely reckless, making impulsive decisions on a whim. That could be dangerous. The girl, younger than me, looked frightened out of her mind.

"—AND YOU WILL DO AS I SAY, SO HELP YOU GOD!" Mr. Brighton finished. He took a deep breath and turned to the still-frightened girl, who had watched our entire conversation. "Calista, bathe her and get her dressed for dinner. She will be dining with me and my men in the great hall."

He turned dramatically and swept through the open door, only to return a moment later to ask, "What's your name?"

I glared again. "You may call me Miss Jeffrey." I used my mother's maiden name today. It felt odd to say it was me. He slammed the door shut on his way out, and I let loose a tired sigh. I turned to Calista, and said, "Hi."

Though uncertain, she replied, "Hello, Miss." She curtsied and I shook my head.

"No need for that. I wasn't lying when I said that I am not a Noble."

"But Miss—"

"Call me Ella," I interrupted. She smiled slightly, "Call me Calista."

"That's a lovely name." I told her and she smiled again. I would make it my mission to make her smile as long as I was stuck here. Hopefully if I got the chance to escape, she could come with me.

"Thank you, Ella, my mother chose it for me." Calista replied. "Now, we must get started, otherwise Master will not be pleased."

I pursed my lips, then nodded.

"I will have someone start bringing hot water up to the bathroom down the hall." Calista moved to the door but I stopped her.

"That isn't necessary. It's a lot of extra work and I'm sure I could bathe in the servant's quarters. It's what I'm used to." I smiled. "I'm a maid too. Or, at least I was a few days ago."

"Truly?" She asked.

"Yes."

"Thank you. That saves so much time. To tell the truth, I've been sort for time these past few days." Calista led me down an extravagant hallway then down two flights of stairs. "The work here is awful."

I shot her a worried glance, but she noticed it all too well.

"I know what you're thinking. 'Why don't I leave?' I wish I could. But there's nowhere else to go. I have to stay here and take care of my brother."

"I'm sorry." I said, wishing I could help.

"It's not your doing." She replied wistfully. Next Calista opened a lacquered wooden door. This probably led to the kitchen. It swung open and I was right. The kitchen was bustling with people and different smells of food. My stomach clenched. When was the last time I had eaten?

Calista led me past all of the other working women, all of whom didn't spare me an extra glance, thank God. We went behind a hastily strung up sheet, and began preparing for my bath. Calista pumped the water into a small brass basin and I took a towel down from the clean stack and began taking off my layers. When I was down to my under garments I waited for Calista to be finished so she could help me untie the too-tight cords of the corset. When I was finally down to my white chemise, I slipped it off quickly and descended into the cold water.

I began to scrub my body with soap hurriedly. I didn't want to get pneumonia and catch my death. This was normal routine for me in the cold weather. Then behind me I heard Calista gasp. My back straightened because I knew what she saw. _The scars._ They had marred my skin for years. No one had seen them, other than Stepmother and I. Stepmother. Was she happy without me now? Had she found some other girl to beat into reliance on her household? I hoped not.

Suddenly I felt a warm hand trail across my shoulders, tracing the many memories of lashings I had received. Ariana hadn't seen the scars when she had dressed me for lunch with Henri. The chemise had covered them.

"Who did this to you?" Calista asked.

"The lady I worked for." I sneezed. "I think it's time for me to get out of this dreadfully cold water."

"I'm so sorry." She answered. "Lashings rarely happen around here. Usual punishments are no food or a strike to the face."

"Yes, well, it did teach me a few things." I got out of the tub and wrapped myself with the thin green towel. Gooseflesh erupted down my arms, reminding me that I was freezing. "Kindness. Courage."

"How could lashings teach you anything?"

"They taught me courage to not fall apart and lose myself. And the kindness to forgive my Stepmother." I said.

"Your Stepmother?!" Calista almost shrieked. Oops. I did not mean to say that part of my story. It just meant more questions. Calista continued speaking to herself. "How much cruelty can there be in this world?"

"Too much." I answered her. We spent the rest of my preparation in silence. I was slipped into another corset, making my waist tiny once more. It couldn't be healthy, squeezing my ribs into the 'perfect figure'. Next came a tight and low cut pink dress. The satin material was nice, but I didn't feel comfortable in the design. It showed too much of my chest area for me to feel decent.

"Why must I wear this dress?" I asked Calista as I slipped my feet into another pair of slippers. They matched the dress perfectly.

"Master chose it specifically for tonight, I'm afraid." She said.

"Now why would he do that?"

"It might have something to do with the fact that you are to be eating with him and half of his men. They haven't seen a real lady in—well, ever, really. I do feel bad for you though."

I scowled. He was going to show me off like some prized pony. They probably paid him to get a look down my front. Not today, not ever. That wasn't going to happen.

"How much time do I have, Calista?" I wondered, fingering the useless lace trim at the bottom of the gown.

"About fifteen minutes?" She said, beginning to style my hair.

"Could I borrow some things?"

"What do you mean?"

"Can I borrow some scissors, thread, and a sewing needle?" I asked. Her face lit up as she realized what I was going to try and attempt.

"Oh! Yes!" She rushed to get the materials and as soon as she returned I began to carefully cut the trim off of the bottom of the dress. Next I pieced together what remained and then sewed it lightly onto the top of the bodice of my dress. It was difficult in some places, sewing something while you're wearing it is never easy, so Calista helped. Together we finished just in time for her to take me outside the dining hall doors. We could hear the men talking, laughing, and spitting at each other form the other side of the door.

"I do not envy you tonight." She said.

I nodded. I wished I was anywhere but here. I bit my lip and then knocked on the door loudly. The man's chatter fell silent. The scraping of chairs could be heard until finally someone opened up the door. All eyes were on me as I stepped into the room. Lord, it was going to be a long night.


	6. Chapter 6

I carefully folded the handkerchief, soaked with water, and pressed it to my lip. The fabric became saturated with my blood. I had pushed it too far tonight with Mr. Brighton. He did not like my sharp tongue. I shivered in the small cell I had been locked it. Iron cuffs befitted my wrists, connecting a chain to the stone wall. There was a small bucket of water in one corner and a barred window near the ceiling. I could just barely see out of it if I stood atop the hay mattress.

I sat down. How could I escape? It was freezing right now, and my showy dress did little to keep me warm. I calculated about how long I could last without a good coat and food. Perhaps three to four days?

My mind drifted to what Mr. Brighton had said. I was here because he wanted a wife and because I "meant" something to Henri. He said Henri had stopped him from marrying the love of his life. The scheme to sneak into the gala was just the beginning of showing any prospective women how pathetic he could be. I shook my head. Henri could never be pathetic. Not to me.

That's when I came in, Brighton said. "That man (the prince) watches you with such admiration that I knew you were his chosen one."

I should have accepted his marriage proposal.

There was no end to Henri's good attributes, except maybe his aptitude for interrupting. A hollow ache in my chest reminded me of how easy it was to just sit and talk with him. God, what would I give to be out of here and in his arms instead?

Woah.

Where did that come from? Yes, I'll admit I liked him as a person, perhaps even _fancied_ him, but to pine for him? What good would that do? Our marriage would not be supported. I knew that. But I feared only Henri could get me out of this situation. Was he even looking for me right now?

A door creaked open and shut as someone entered the dungeon. I got up off of the hay mattress to go to my own barred door. The chains connecting me to the wall clanked in protest as I moved. Then I saw Calista peek around the corner. Upon seeing me she rushed over, saying, "I am so sorry!"

"Calista, you have done nothing wrong. It's my own doing."

"How can you say that?! That evil man made the decision to hurt you." She pushed a warm cloak through the bars and I slipped it over my shoulders, thankful for the heat it provided. I didn't reply to her, just tightened the fabric around me.

"Master Brighton is sending me into town tomorrow." Calista reported. "It's a day's journey to get there and a day to get back."

"What for?" I asked, curious.

"To pick up his mother and your wedding dress."

"My wedding dress? For goodness sake!" I paused. "Do you think his mother would help convince him to let me go?"

"I'm afraid not, Miss Ella."

I bit my lip, forgetting that it had a newly forming scab, and winced in reply. "What am I to do?!"

Timidly, Calista handed me a needle, thread, and a new handkerchief.

"You want me to practice needlepoint? At a time like this?" I said, not understanding what her purpose was. "I assure you my sewing skills are fine. What I need is to get out of here with a weapon, preferably a sword, and fight my way out."

"If I let you out, Master Brighton would know it was me." Calista answered. "I'm saying, that if you stay up by the light of the moon, you can sew a message onto this handkerchief, and I can deliver it to a guard when I'm in town tomorrow."

"Really?! You would do that for me?" I breathed a sigh of hopefulness.

"Kindness is hard to come by in the world I live in. It's the least I can do for you." Calista replied.

"Thank you—"

"But you must promise me something in return." Calista bargained. My eyebrows scrunched. What could I get her? She kept going, "When this prince of yours comes to save you—" I blushed at her words. "Then he has to get my brother and I out too. I don't know where we'll go or anything yet, but anywhere is better than here."

I nodded. "We have a deal."

Calista nodded and handed me a thick quilt, pressing it through the bars. I grasped for it thankfully and wrapped it around my shaking body. The next moment, she was gone, and all I heard was the closing of the door. Then I got to work. I curled up in the corner of the cell, on the horrid "mattress", and began my message. I had to make it short and concise, but still make sure he would understand.

 _Henri, it's Ella. Friedrich Brighton has me captive. Please help. ~Ella Moore_

It was some of my best work, honestly. Not a single stitch was out of place. I bit my lip at the last bit. My last name. I would be returned to Stepmother without a doubt, but that sounded better than where I was now. I held the fabric close to my heart as I glanced up and out of the window. I could see a small patch of dark, starry sky. It was marred by the iron bars blocking the view. Would I ever truly have freedom?

Calista's p.o.v.

My hands shook as I clutched the handkerchief in my pocket. Master Brighton would kill me and my brother for this. But if I succeeded, we would be out of that place for good. I had already memorized the message on the fabric. Ella Moore was her name, and I knew in my heart that I had to help her.

One of Brighton's goons was following right behind me, but I already had a plan of how to lose him. I made a right turn and stopped right in front of a lady's dress wear salon. I turned sharply over my right shoulder and said to the man, "Forgive me, sir, but men are not allowed in this establishment."

He frowned at me and I shivered. After a few seconds though, he nodded, saying, "I will be right outside this door. Do not take too long."

I nodded slightly, curtsied, and went inside the salon. A young seamstress approached me, and began giving me different options. She immediately reminded me of what Ella wanted to be. As soon as she stopped speaking I said, "I am here to pick up a wedding dress under the name of Brighton."

"Is that all?"

"Could you wrap it to travel, please?"

"Yes ma'am. It will be a few minutes, if that is alright?" She told me.

"Yes, that is fine, take your time. Thank you." As the seamstress turned away to get the dress, followed her quietly and slipped out the back before she could notice me. I rushed to the end of the alleyway and peeked my head around the corner. Master Brighton's man was still there, but fortunately he was distracted by a young lady and her escort walking by. I pitied the lady.

I scanned the busy marketplace, hoping to God there was a guard nearby. I didn't have long. There. Across the street was a guard. I took one more glance and hurried my way towards him. Noticing me, he met me halfway.

"Is there a problem, Miss—?" He asked.

"—Miller, sir. And yes, there is." I answered nervously.

"Miss Miller, what is the trouble?" There was concern in his eyes and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

"This is of the upmost importance, Sir—?"

"—Clark. Sir Allen Clark." He gave me a tight smile. "Now tell me what is wrong."

I took the handkerchief out of my pocket and held it out to him. "You must give this to his Royal Highness the Prince."

"I must?" Mirth filled Allen Clark's eyes. As if I could tell him what to do. My face flushed.

"Yes! It is a matter of life and death!" I wasn't lying. Brighton would leave Ella down in the freezing dungeon until the wedding, and she could die from the cold.

The laughter died in his eyes as he took the handkerchief. "Whose life is in danger?!"

I glanced over my shoulder. My time was up. "Just read the stitching and get it to the Prince! That's all I can say, I'm sorry! I must go."

I turned and fled before he could fully process what I had ordered him to do. I could hear Sir Clark's voice calling me to wait. But I didn't have time. I rushed through the salon to the front, threw down the sack of money Brighton had entrusted me, and picked up the heavy dress packaging. When I exited through the front door I was out of breath, hastily trying to conceal that fact from the goon.

When he finally noticed me, I had gotten my breathing under control. With as stiff nod we took off down the road. He didn't offer to take the weighty package, and I didn't expect him to. As I put the package in the cart and clambered in, I glanced back. Somehow through the haze of the busy marketplace I saw Sir Clark again. We met eyes and I nodded to him, hoping the concern would show through to him.

Please God. This had to work.


	7. Chapter 7

Henri's p.o.v.

"Where the hell did you get this?!" I asked Sir Clark frantically. He did not look as desperate as I would have liked. I was desperate. Ella had been missing for days now. My unkempt hair and the bags under my eyes bore witness to that.

"A girl gave it to me in the marketplace, sire." Clark said. "I knew enough to get it to you immediately."

I bit my tongue to hold back a sarcastic comment. Then I decided, "Gather four men besides yourself and prepare to ride to Brighton's. If we're lucky we can get there in less than a day."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Dismissed." At my words, Clark spun on his heel and went to carry out my bidding. I turned too, going back to my own quarters to change for the journey. I ran my fingers over the perfectly stitched lettering, and wondered if I could get there in time. As I looked at the message though, I noticed that she had included her last name. Moore. Where had I heard that name before? I changed my course to Father's study. He would know.

I didn't even knock when I entered. Father rolled his eyes at me then kept pouring over the papers on his desk.

"Father." I said to get his attention.

"What is it, Henri?" He didn't even look up.

"Do you know anyone of the last name Moore?" I gaged his reaction. This time he looked up with sad eyes.

"I could never forget that name. Why do you ask? Have you finished looking for that 'Ella' girl yet?" H asked, his voice solemn at first.

"I have received a message from her, and she told me her last name was Moore." I told him.

Father's eyes widened as a look of shock came over his features.

"What is it?!" I asked quickly, approaching his desk. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.

"No. It can't be. Ella Moore died in a fire alongside her father." He mumbled.

"Who was Moore?!" I was becoming more anxious for an answer and my aggression was obvious. Father did not answer. Why couldn't he answer me, dammit!

"Thomas Moore was one of the best knights I have ever known." He finally answered in a soft voice. "He saved a battalion all on his own when no other dared to. The man was a hero. He had a daughter, named Ella, but they were both reported dead in an accident fire. But if the Ella we know was really alive—"

I interrupted. "She said her stepmother had hurt her before. Who is her stepmother?!"

"The Lady Tremaine." He answered. "Son, do you know where Ella is? She was named the benefactor of all Moore's money and estates."

"If Lady Tremaine faked Ella's death, she would receive all of the riches Moore left behind. Meanwhile she could use Ella to do all of her bidding." I connected the dots. "And yes. She said she is being held captive by Friedrich Brighton. I was going to leave within the hour—"

"You must go, son. I will summon Lady Tremaine to the palace and talk to her while you do so. Now go!" He commanded me and I ran out the door. I clutched the handkerchief tightly in my hand, thinking. _Just hold on a little while longer, Ella._

Ella's p.o.v.

My head hurt. Probably from the little water in my body. Or the blood loss. Both is the likely answer. My wounds were trying to heal themselves and I wasn't doing anything to help that process along. It had been two days since Calista had left. She should be returning soon. Which meant that I would be married to that sadistic pig soon. And the way my body was faring, it didn't look like I could do much to fight the impending future. I hated being so helpless!

I was left alone the entire time, and that was a good thing, in my opinion. If I didn't see them, I couldn't be provoked to do something I would regret later. I should have behaved that night. Then maybe I would have a bedroom I could actually escape from. In this jail cell, I could do nothing, which sucked royally.

Royally.

Henri.

Did he get my message? Would he do anything if he did? I mean, I admitted to liking me, in front of the King, no less, but was I really worth it? Or was I just some fling who provided entertainment for the day? I pinched the bridge of my nose. I had to stop thinking like this. Of course Henri was going to come for me. He wasn't the kind of man to forget about a "damsel in distress." At least, I thought he wasn't.

Then, I heard men yelling in the distance. I sat up straighter, straining my ears for any other sign of noise. It was getting louder. I pushed myself to standing on the cot and try to look out the barred window. Before I could see, though, a wracking cough overcame me. My lungs heaved and I leaned against the wall for support. I was going to catch my death if I stayed down here another night. My nose was running too, and I sniffed every other second, annoying myself to no end. Still, I had to see out that window.

I pushed myself up against the wall, and stood on the tips of my toes. I could just barely watch what was happening. My vantage point let me see out into the woods where part of a road was. A series of horses and their riders had stopped there. I could see the colors of the guard's uniforms, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. They must have been here to help me. Surely, they were!

"Oh, God help me." I murmured.

The crashing of the dungeon's door slamming open and closed brought me down from my hopefulness. One of Brighton's ugly fiends approached my cell, and unlocked the door.

"Get down from there, girlie." He ordered. I did as I was told. As soon as my feet had touched the floor, the brute picked me up around the waist, and slung me over his meaty shoulder. I felt like the perfect rag doll. There was nothing I could do as he ascended the stairs without breaking a sweat. This man was overly strong. And me? I was overly weak at the moment.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked.

"Shut it." He practically growled. My head throbbed more as all the blood rushed there because of my awkward position. As we traveled through the hallways I tried to form a plan. My mind was thinking too slowly though, and when the man finally put me down, I was seeing double and nearly tripped over my own feet. I needed a plan! I slowly looked around the room as my vision settled. Brighton stood by a fireplace, one hand on the mantle and the other holding a glass of scotch. He obviously thought his situation was grim.

Placing the glass on the mantle, he turned to me, "How did they know you are here?" Brighton didn't have to explain who _they_ were.

"My men were discreet about who they worked for and you have had no contact with the outside world, so tell me," Brighton paused. "How?"

I shook my head. I didn't have an answer to that. At least, no one that would save me from more pain. That was what I was really focused on. Keeping myself conscious was vital if I wanted to make it out of here alive.

"I can't tell you that." I whispered, knowing full well that if I spoke any louder and harsher, my voice would crack.

"You can, and you will." Brighton drew his sword and leveled it at my stomach. I stared at the blade wearily before replying.

"What are you going to do?" I asked. "You've already abused me. Starved me. Almost had me freeze to death. Is that what you want? My death? Because I assure you sir, my death is just around the corner anyway, and I will die knowing that my death is protecting others."

Nobody moved. A vein on Brighton's forehead grew as he became more frustrated at me. However, not a single word was spoken. I prodded at him further, engaging him in a battle of 'wits'. Anything to buy myself more time before the palace guards could come and save me.

"Are you having second thoughts, Brighton." I provoked. "You're fine hitting women, throwing them 'round, and roughing them up, but as soon as the time comes to do the deed of taking a life, you leave it to your henchmen."

The brute behind me growled. My words were working as the lines on Brighton's face grew deeper, and his face redder. _Come on_. I thought. What could be taking them this long? I swallowed as I swayed on my feet. Black was starting to creep into the edge of my vision. No. I had to resist. Resist my physical needs and get out of here before more damage was done.

I blinked a few times, not paying attention as Brighton raised his sword and swung. Good news: I reacted in time. Bad news: I ducked out of the way by throwing my body to the right, toppling myself into a table. We both fell, adding to my never-ending list of injuries. Would I ever get a break?

My fall only led to more stars and darkness. I didn't have any more time to spare. If the guards weren't coming to help, I would have to help myself. The only problem was that now, because I was on the floor, I didn't want to get up. How easy would it be to just close my eyes and—No! Can't think like that.

I pushed myself to my hands and knees while Brighton laughed cruelly. If could just get to the fireplace…

"Do you really believe you can make it out of here?" He taunted. I tuned him out. The logs and sticks were crackling with fire and sparks. I just needed to get close enough. I forced myself to move, and inch by inch, I did.

An unexpected kick to the ribs knocked me down again, and I lost vision for all of ten seconds before continuing my way, the three feet ahead of my outstretched hand feeling like a lifetime away. Next came a strip of leather slashing at my back. I choked on my gasp of pain. A knock at the door saved me from another lashing.

"What is it?!" Brighton yelled. The door burst open with another of his men. This one had tried to feel me up at the dinner days ago. This distraction bought me enough time to get me back on my hands and knees and make it the rest of my way.

"Hey! What is she doing?!" I heard someone yell as I grabbed a fire poker and knocked a piece of wood into the room. The heat was intense against my face, but I was determined to set the rom ablaze. The flames latched onto the ornate carpet and furniture, and all the while, I finished seizing the scorched logs from the fireplace. Crawling into the small area, a scream escaped my throat, as I yanked my hands away from the burning hot bricks. My hands appeared red and blistered, and I was breathing heavily through my mouth, inhaling the smoke deeply.

Faintly, I could hear the screaming of the other men. I smiled dimly. I really was Cinderella. They were right all along. But my time in fireplaces helped me know a few things. For instance, this fireplace, because it was in a main room, it was wider. I couldn't escape like I had before, but I could climb the built in "ladder" of sorts meant for chimneysweeps. Hand and foot holds had been carved into the brick when the estate was built.

A cough overcame my body and I pushed myself to my feet. I just had to get to the top. That meant getting to the second floor. Somehow, hand over hand, and foot over foot, I made it. I had to pause every few seconds to catch my breath. The smoke from the burning room below me was escaping just as I was. Up.

It was dark. The soot clogged my throat and eyes. Yet moving until I reached an opening in the chimney, leading off to another room. I crawled my way through, not afraid of the small space. Then I fell a few feet into another fireplace. This was a parlor. Someplace women of dignity used to have tea. I wasn't a lady of dignity or importance. I wasn't even a lady.

I stumbled to the iron paned window, and unlatched it hastily. Momentarily, I had forgotten my fear of heights and falling. Nausea crept into my stomach and my eyesight dimmed. I lurched away from the windowsill.

Then I heard him.

"ELLA!" Henri bellowed, running towards the window. I held desperately to the frame and looked down at him. In all of his glory, he was beautiful. Who would have thought that I could have fallen so appallingly in love with that man? I had never seen a better sight. Unfortunately, I did not like the words that were coming out of his mouth.

"You have to jump, Ella! I will catch you!" He urged. I stared at him as if he were crazy, and believe me, he was.

"I can't!" I cried.

"I would never let you be harmed in any way!" Henri pleaded.

"How can I trust you?" I called hoarsely.

"I can for you, didn't I?" He replied then said, "It was me, Ella. I was the boy who pulled you off of that ledge so many years ago."

I leaned a bit out of the window, "What?"

"It was me." Henri repeated. _Could it truly be him?_ I wondered. He pleaded again, "Ella, the estate is on fire! You must jump. I _will_ catch you. I promise."

I swallowed and set my shaking hands on the windowsill.

"That's it." He encouraged.

I slipped my legs over the edge, so I was sitting on the ledge. I looked to Henri.

"I promise I will catch you." He repeated. I took one more glance behind me. Black smoke was sliding under the door, filling the room.

Then I turned back, closed my eyes, and fell.


	8. Chapter 8

_2 weeks later…_

I sat in the northern garden, blessed by the soft shade of my favorite tree. A sketchbook lay in my lap and my shoes had been discarded long ago. I was in bliss. My mind drifted back to the nightmare of two weeks ago, and I shuddered at the memory. Henri had, indeed, caught me. But I knew enough to know that I didn't ever want to do it again. Even now I could see the plumed hat of a guard peeking over the pristine hedges. Henri made sure that I was never out of sight of the protection he could provide.

At first, it was awful. I didn't have a moment to myself to think or breathe. During my recovery, I refused to wear a synching under corset, much to the dismay of Ariana, who believed ladies should be properly dressed when courting a prince.

Yes, courting. Henri and I were officially engaged. We were to be married in a few months' time. I smiled up at the sky. Every time I thought of being married to Henri I got this amazing feeling in my stomach. It wasn't nausea, but excitement.

I was pulled out of my thoughts as one of the older knights approached me. I had gotten to know him well over the time because he was practically always with me out of doors.

"Hello there, Richard." I smiled and sat up straighter against the tree trunk. Richard looked to be around 35, with the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, you would think he was older. He loved to laugh and his three children certainly caused lots of laughter.

Richard bowed, "Your Ladyship."

"How many times have I asked you not to call me that?" I said, snapping the sketchbook closed. Richard offered me a hand as I got to my feet, but I brushed it away and slung my sheathed sword over my shoulder so it was no on my back. "I'm not a lady. You know that, Richard."

There was a twinkle in his eyes as he bent and picked up my shoes. This was one of our daily routine's now. He would come and find me in the mornings, then whisk me off to attend classes on how to be 'royalty'. Sometimes I didn't think the tutors truly had any idea about what royalty were like. Henri certainly didn't go into raptures about how I held my tea cup!

"So where are we off to today?" I asked with a sigh. "Another language lesson? Listening to any more of that terrible German tutor makes me want to poke my eyes out with a stick."

"On the contrary, Madame, you are meeting with the King and Prince." He answered.

"What? Henri didn't tell me about this meeting last night. I know he wouldn't forget—"

Richard interrupted, "That's all I'm allowed to tell you, I'm afraid."

"Is there anything you can tell me that you aren't allowed to?" I questioned hopefully. Richard chuckled.

"I wish I could tell you everything, Madame—"

"Ella." I said without thought.

"Madame," Richard continued on as if I hadn't said anything. "But you should know it has to do with your family."

I pursed my lips. My family. I had shut them out of my train of thought ever since they found out about Henri and I. Every day I received letter after letter explaining why I should invite them to the palace to stay with me. I didn't answer any but Victoria's, and she promised not to tell her mother about our correspondence.

Now I had to go find out what was the matter. That was life though, right? Doing things because you know it's right? We stopped outside of the door to a sitting room, completely silent. I took my shoes from Richard and put them on. Straightening my shoulders, I nodded to him and he rapped lightly on the door.

A muffled, "Enter," was heard and Richard opened the door.

"Presenting her Ladyship, Ella Moore." Richard said. I shot him a look. I was not a lady! Why couldn't anyone get that into their heads? Then my eyes found Henri. He had risen from his seat on a plush settee and was striding purposefully towards me. Richard left and we were alone. The King had not arrived yet.

Henri pulled me into a warm embrace and we both visibly relaxed. I breathed in his scent, my head tucked perfectly on his shoulder. We didn't move for a few seconds, content in just holding each other. This was true happiness. I grinned despite myself.

"What are you smiling about?" Henri asked sweetly. "Me?"

I laughed and leaned back so I could see all of his face. "I'm just so happy I get to be with you."

"Me too." He answered quietly then pressed his lips to my forehead. I closed my eyes and cherished the few moments before the King would arrive. The King. He had been so incredibly pleasant towards me lately. I didn't know why, but I'm sure it had something to do with my family. The two royal men surely by now knew my lineage. To the King's horror probably, his only son was marrying a scullery maid.

We both pulled back at the same time and he led me over to the settee, leaving a winged armchair for his father. I took off my sword and lay it down on the floor. I bit my lip, thinking about what was to come.

"What are we going to talk about, Henri?"

He met my eyes, "There is something very important we all need to discuss."

"My family." It wasn't a question. "Richard was right."

"Why do you call him by his first name?"

"Because Sir Ridenhour sounds stuffy and boring. Why? Are you worried I'll run off with him?" I teased. Henri blushed faintly and I laughed.

Sobering, Henri took my hand and kissed the inside of my palm. "I love you."

"Do you really?" I breathed.

"Yes." He smiled nervously. "Well, at least, I think so."

I beamed at him and suddenly threw my arms around him. We both laughed and held the embrace. Then I said, "I think I'm in love with you too."

"Good." Henri confided. "Because that makes what I'm about to do so much easier."

"Wha—" I started to say before I was cut off. All of a sudden Henri's lips were on mine. They were soft and fit perfectly with mine. My eyes closed as his hands trailed up and down my back. An indescribable feeling washed over me and I tangled my hands in his dark blond hair. When we finally broke for air I just stared into his eyes. Our first kiss. I grinned ecstatically at him.

Just before we were going to kiss again the door flew open and the King strode pridefully in. Henri and I practically jumped apart, hastily trying to straighten our clothes and dim our blushing faces. I couldn't do it, however. Every time I pictured how amazing it was kissing Henri, my face was suddenly scarlet again.

"I see you two are getting along." The King rolled his eyes and sat down. I could not bring myself to even look at him.

"Yes, sir." Henri answered cheekily. I shot him a look and he grinned more.

"We should proceed." The King ordered.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I agree." I pursed my lips, waiting.

"Your father was Thomas Moore, yes?"

I nodded. "Of the twenty third division."

The King was quiet for a moment as he planned out what to say. "I knew your father, Ella. Personally. Before he died…"

I looked down at my hands folded in my lap.

"…I was informed that you, Ella, had died in a fire alongside him. If I had known otherwise I would never have allowed you to be so poorly mistreated. For that I am truly sorry."

Henri took my hand in his gave it a gentle squeeze. I didn't even know what to think at the moment.

"You should know that your father left everything he owned to you and not your stepmother." The King told me. My head shot up, questions burning in my eyes. He went on. "The marriage between your mother and father was perfectly legitimate, and that you were the sole benefactor of it all. Your stepmother faked your death though, so all of Tom's riches have been squandered away by her."

I bit down hard on my tongue to stop tears from leaking out of my eyes. I couldn't cry right now. Stepmother had taken everything from me. Everything.

The King continued. "Your full name and title are as read." He took out a folded missive from the pocket of his embroidered coat. "Lady Eleanor Lily Moore, Grand Marchioness of Langford."

"My father was a Marquess?!" I wondered aloud. A Marquess was in charge of the borders of the country. How could I have not known about this? All I knew was that he had been an amazing knight before taking on his father's job.

"Yes, one of the best I had ever seen."

"Who has been in charge of the borders all this time then?" I asked.

"A distant cousin of yours, I believe. I didn't see your Stepmother as fit to be in charge of a job so important with two young daughters to look after. His name is Augustus Moore, and he has served honorably throughout the entirety of his time."

"Now that I am marrying Henri, what is to happen, Your Majesty?"

"Firstly, you will stop calling me 'Your Majesty'. Your Father was one of the best men I have ever known. Call me Joffrey." He nodded. "For the matter of your family, Henri and I wanted you to decide what happens. If you want your Stepmother punished, then that can be arranged."

"Oh, no!" I disagreed. "I don't want to be the cause of any more pain. My father taught me how to use a sword for my protection. I don't intend to use it for anything else."

Henri squeezed my hand again, getting my attention.

"Then what do suppose we do?" He asked. I thought for a moment before an idea came to me.

"I would like my Stepmother and Stepsister Charlotte to have the same life they gave me. One of servitude. Their sentence is to be the same amount of years I was given, so, ten years." I decided.

"What of your stepsister Victoria?" King Joffrey asked.

"Victoria has always been different." I confided. "She was kind to me and even helped me when I needed it. I would like her to be a lady in waiting for me, if that is alright with you?"

Joffrey nodded. "You would have been able to appoint her that position without my permission. And Augustus Moore, your cousin, what about him?"

"I think it is best that we meet, but that he retains his position. Once I become the princess of this sovereignty, there are sure to be many responsibilities already. Considering a woman has not been in charge he for a number of years, I'm sure there is plenty for me to do."

King Joffrey turned to Henri, "Son, I believe you have made a very wise decision in marrying her." With that said he left us alone. I let out a nervous breath of air and ran a hand over my face.

"He's right, you know." Henri said.

"What?" I asked.

"It was a very wise decision to marry you. You will only bring greatness to this kingdom." He replied.

"Is that supposed to be flirting?" I raised my eyebrows with a content smirk.

"You're not like most women, Ella. You aren't always fawning over new trends and fainting on people." Henri tried.

I laughed, liking our easy conversation. "I try to keep the fainting to a minimum."

Then, looking me dead in the eyes, he said, "You can faint on me whenever you'd like. I'll always be there to catch you."

I smiled as he cupped my face with his hands, and then lowered his lips to mine. This was it. This was happiness, and I was sure as all heaven and hell that I would never let it go.


	9. Epilogue

Epilogue

3rd person p.o.v.

"Annaliese, love, would you please hold still for one moment!" King Henri Ansley practically begged his youngest child. The little four-year-old girl was the carbon copy of her mother, and shared the 'no shoes' tendency, as well. Annaliese refused to let her father tie the slippers back onto her feet. She giggled as she ran about the room, giddy as she knew what trouble she was causing.

A laugh came from the doorway, the Queen appearing and leaning up against the doorframe. The crown on her head glinted off of the sunlight streaking through the windows. The King's, however, sat on a table while his hair was in a great state of disorder.

"Would you like some help?" She asked.

"I would love some." He muttered. Together the two of them caught her and tied the soft pink slippers onto her feet. Standing up, Henri held Annaliese against his hip while his wife fixed both of their hair.

"Where are the boys?" Henri asked.

"James is waiting downstairs. I have no idea where the twins are." They royal couple shared a smile. Edward and Charles were always stirring up trouble.

"Perhaps Calista has found them?" Henri mused.

"Yes, perhaps." Ella answered, placing her husband's crown on top of his head. "Are _we_ ready then?"

"I think so." He replied and they walked downstairs through the elegant palace. Today was the country's anniversary, and there were festivals planned throughout the entire week. The royal family was going to open the first celebration then participate in the festivities with everyone else. When they reached the main front doors, their oldest, James, ran up to them. At ten years old, he was a charming young boy.

"I tried to stop them Mum, I really did!" James immediately said.

"What have they done now?" Ella did not get upset. She knew that everything would be resolved with time.

"Your boys got into the cake you are supposed to cut in front of the entire country in two minutes!" Calista appeared around the corner, pulling Edward and Charles by their ears. Frosting coated their faces and hands, but they didn't seem at all sorry for what they had accomplished.

Taking her handkerchief out of her pocket, Ella crouched on her knees and started wiping off her boy's faces. When finished, she ordered them, "Lick your fingers and apologize to Miss Calista."

"Sorry Miss Calista." The boys repeated cheekily at the same time.

"Ma'am?" A servant asked. Another held a tiered cake with a large hole in one side. "What should we do?"

"Just turn it towards the back." Ella handled the situation with ease. This was her life now, and she loved every moment. There were days with stress, but overall, she wouldn't trade it for the world. With four beautiful children and a loving husband, Ella knew that all the pain she had endured was worth it in the end. _They_ were worth it.


End file.
